Bittersweet
by wrecked martyr
Summary: She's Hermione Granger. She sings too loud and makes terrible pasta and steals his sweatshirts because "Fuck off Draco, I do what I want" and plays N'Sync to wake him up and fucking hell he would do it all again and again and again if she kept smiling just. Like. That. DMHG. One-shots/short stories.


Right, well, hello!

I don't know if an introduction is in order when one joins the world of fanfiction for the first time but common curtesy dictates that...well, it is.

Sierra, English-Latina, fourteen, pending vegan but lacks self-control, obsessed with Harry Potter to the point of concern, Dramione slut, feminist or something like that, future Mrs Scorpius Malfoy because screw Rose Weasley.

I suppose I should also explain this...story?

Let's go with story.

Voldemort isn't a thing/was never a thing/will never be a thing so Hallelujah everyone is alive, (raise mugs of butterbeer here) Draco is NOT ooc, I just imagine this is how he acts around people he considers friends. And, well, he's friends with everyone except Orla, Ron and Susan in this story.

He and Hermione have already been friends for two years (they were getting to know each other during the first year) so if you review telling me this is going too fast I promise I will Avada you.

And that is all!

Oh, I'd also like to make it sinfully clear that these are all one-shots/short stories and will be named accordingly. EG: Quidditch I, Quidditch II, Quidditch III etc.

Okay, I'm done now.

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and the ability to write the most boring disclaimers ever. God damn it Sierra, be witty.

* * *

 _ **Quidditch I**_

The quiet wind drifting through the dormitory windows paired with the feeling of absolute blissfulness she got from the comfort of her crimson quilts was almost enough to _soothe_ the Gryffindor Princess back to sleep.

However, it was Friday.

And _no_ self-respecting fifth year let themselves sleep on a Friday.

Hermione grinned as her charmed alarm clock chimed merrily, indicating that it was finally twelve pm.

She bounced out of bed in a flurry and ran her hands over her fuzzy, navy blue pyjamas, straightening them. She pulled a brush through her unruly curls before taking a deep breath and bounding on top of the sleeping form of Lavender Brown.

The girl woke in an instant, her eyes unfocused and misty as her system jostled back to life. She mumbled incoherently for a few moments with her eyes drooping (causing Hermione to giggle) then yawned, stretched, and kicked her friend off of the bed.

"Honestly 'Mione, you'd think after doing this for three years I'd get used to being woken up so _rudely_." The blonde girl snapped as she pulled herself off of her bed to get ready, though her blue eyes shone with mirth.

Hermione laughed from her place on the floor, in a surprisingly good mood for it being such a late hour, then proceeded to use the same beloved method to awaken the other girls in her dorm.

Orla Goldstein and Kiara Huntington were awake and ready within ten minutes, their expressions alert and determined.

Hermione was practically giddy with excitement, just as she expected the other girls were. She supposed she should've gotten accustomed to the tradition, but found she couldn't quell the feeling of pure delirium coursing through her system every Friday night for the past three years. The thing was, she'd never imagined she'd be a part of anything so _wonderful_!

For the past three years, since second year, everyone from each house came together on a Friday night to play a game of Quidditch, raid the kitchens then sleep over at an assigned common room.

The idea was first raised by her dorm-mate, Kiara, who decided to take the matter of Inter-House Unity in her own hands. She used her charm and persuasiveness to convince the other houses to accept, and even got the House-Elves and portraits involved to assist. Hermione was sceptical at first, adamant not to spend more time with the Slytherins than necessary and refused to abuse curfew so treacherously.

However, after begrudgingly attending the seventh meeting, she witnessed a different side to the people she'd once waste no time in describing as "foul, stoic and proud" and decided to give the entire ordeal a chance. Now, after two years, she found she couldn't imagine a life without her Slytherin friends in it － she was _even_ quite fond of Draco Malfoy, who, after a year of animosity, slowly lowered his mask till she found he was really a charming, witty, funny, albeit dreadfully sarcastic and cynical individual who didn't truly believe in the blood prejudice and bigotry he was taught.

Lavender said her high opinions of the blonde Slytherin meant she had a crush.

She didn't.

Not really.

 _Merlin_.

She was almost anxious to see him.

Hermione turned to the others and pressed a finger to her lips, signalling silence, before tiptoeing over to the dormitory door and pushing it open slowly. She stuck her head out to find the landing entirely barren, and a small smile graced her lips as she turned back to the girls and motioned for them to follow her.

Kiara moved so she stood in front of the others, her violet eyes wide with elation. "Okay, I'll go get Ron so we can pick up Ravenclaw. He was told the riddle for tonight, but the boy is rather dim, _bless him_ , and won't be able to answer it. Lav, you come with me and fetch Dean. You'll be the Hufflepuff chauffeurs. Hermione and Orla, you tackle Slytherin. Zabini likes 'Mione best, after all. Harry and Malekai will go down to broom storage to collect brooms for those of us who don't have our own. Okay, you ready?"

Hermione grinned at Kiara, glad to see her friend take the lead for the night. She nodded quickly and waved goodbye to Lavender and Kiara, then grabbed Orla's hand as the other girls rushed to wake the fifth year Gryffindor boys, nimbly skipping down the steps and out of the common room portrait. Once outside, they turned to the Fat Lady and waited for her affirmation.

"All Professors are asleep, girls. Filch is, as scheduled, away for the weekend. You're safe, have fun! I'll inform Minnie to get the kitchens ready."

Hermione nodded, grateful, at the woman before turning to Orla with a smile.

"Time to round up the snakes."

ーxー

The two girls stopped short outside of the Slytherin common room and held their breaths. There were voices coming from inside, and neither of them fancied a run-in with an older Slytherin who had just found two little Gryffindor lionesses on their territory after curfew. However, after listening intently for a few moments, they found that the voices were those of none other than their friends, Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson.

"Oh, Huntington sent an owl! Granger and Goldstein are coming for us! I can't _wait_!" Pansy's shrill voice travelled down the corridor, causing the two Gryffindors to wince.

Next came the unmistakable low baritone of Slytherin's Exotic Prince.

"Honestly Parkinson, do you _want_ to wake up every damn faculty member in this castle? Either lower your voice or _shut the fuck up_."

Hermione sniggered behind her hand, amused by the Italian's brashness.

Orla nodded at her friend, then reached up to knock the assigned three crotchet beats on the deep grey doors before stepping back behind Hermione. Despite having found a mutual respect for the fifth year Slytherins, Orla still had not formed the bond her friends had with the charming snakes, so tended to stay away from them whenever she could.

Hermione rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to chastise her friend － but was interrupted by the deceptive tinkling which indicated that the Slytherin common room doors were being opened.

Blaise Zabini emerged from inside, a lazy half-grin on his handsome face.

"Granger, Goldstein, both looking lovely as ever." He winked as Hermione shook her head, an affectionate smile gracing her lips.

Pansy shoved Blaise aside, ignoring his noise of protest, and beamed at her two Gryffindor friends. After Draco, Pansy was the person Hermione was most hesitant to befriend. However, after being stuck in the stands every week for three years with the girl (who also refused to participate in the Quidditch games) Hermione discovered that the pretty Slytherin's clueless, overwhelming demeanour was merely a façade.

She remembered the day her opinions on the girl changed.

 _Hermione groaned as she spotted the snitch fly right under Diane Leilani's oblivious nose for the sixth time. She was sceptical when Harry allowed her to replace him as Seeker for that week, but soon realised he relented more due to the girl's persistence than his faith in her Seeker abilities._

 _The Ravenclaw girl was much better suited as a Beater._

 _The game had been going for two hours._

 _She decided that if she'd been in better company, the situation may not have been so unbearable. As it happens, she was accompanied by Pansy Parkinson and a sleeping Mandy Brocklehurst._

 _Not ideal._

 _Sighing, she reached into her bag and almost cried in delight as she felt a rough leather binding which indicated that the book was not a textbook or the fifty parchment pages she'd magically linked to form a makeshift notebook._

 _Sighing in relief, she pulled the book out and found it was A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot._

 _She relaxed back in her seat and began reading, oblivious to the pair of eyes that had been following her movements._

 _"A History of Magic?"_

 _Startled, the brunette sat up and was met by a pair of striking obsidian eyes. She leaned back slightly and discovered that the eyes belonged to none other than Pansy Parkinson._

 _"Um, Yes - yeah, that - " she stumbled over her words, at a complete loss. "That...is the book I am reading. Yes." To her utter disbelief, the black haired beauty began chuckling._

 _"I don't bite, Granger." Her words held an amused tone. "That's a good book." She indicated at the book dangling limply in Hermione's slightly trembling fingers._

 _Hermione almost fell off her seat._

 _"You - you've read A History of Magic?" Her question was answered with a smirk and a nod, "But you...you don't seem the - the bookish type at all. In fact, and, well, please don't take offence from this but by the way you act...how did you...grasp the concepts in this?"_

 _Pansy shrugged indifferently. "I'm not bookish, not at all. But I'm not dim either. Just...uninspired. I don't need an education, my future is set in stone and...knowing things isn't part of it. I'm an underachiever because I can be, Granger, not because I want to be."_

 _Hermione was speechless. But as Pansy turned to look at her, a friendly smile on her pretty face, she decided that'd be the last time she judged a person by the way they behave._

She hopped out of the doorway and stood beside them, closely followed by Blaise.

"So Granger, you up for playing tonight?"

Hermione smirked at the dark haired girl, her expression sceptical as she pushed away her friend's nudging the elbows.

"Parkinson, you can tease me for not playing when you bring yourself to stand within _ten_ _feet_ of a br－"

" _HELLO_ CHILDREN, HELLO!"

Hermione and Orla jumped, the latter's hand pressed against her chest as she turned to the noisy newcomer with a frown.

"Nott, you absolute _wanker_."

Theodore Nott stood at the doorway in all his green-silked, six foot glory with a grin lighting up his freckled face, though his elegant, regal demeanour was dismantled by the way his blonde hair was sticking up at odd angles.

Blaise and Pansy stood to the side, seemingly undeterred by their fellow Slytherin's loud entrance.

"Charmed, Goldstein." An imaginary tip of the hat was performed here to punctuate his greeting. He turned to Hermione and smirked, all-Slytherin now in his expression. "Oh, your boyfriend's on the way"－ he ignored the small girl's attempt at a menacing glare "－just taking his _bloody_ good time getting ready. I told him you'd like him even if he looked like a Merlin forsaken _Horklump_ －" Blaise sniggered at this, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "as if the fucker doesn't already" "－but he, with his _wonderful_ little Diva complex, has spent at least twenty minutes styling his hair. At least. Like, as in the bare minimum. Twenty minutes. Let that sink in."

Hermione rolled her eyes as Orla and Pansy stifled a laugh, not particularly interested in Draco Malfoy's obsession to be pretty at all hours of every day.

"And Mirage? Please don't tell me you left the two most sexually unbalanced boys in the school together in one bathroom."

Blaise, always the one with a quick mind, picked up on Hermione's insinuation first and choked on a laugh.

"Watch, the two gits are going to walk out here right now rocking spectrum leg-warmers, channelling Potter with fake glasses - it's a fucking _fashion_ _statement_ Granger do not pout at me like that - and waving gay pride banners in our faces whilst performing the YMCA and chanting their undying lgbt support."

The group snickered, though Hermione felt slightly guilty at finding amusement in such a trivial matter.

Theo, always up for flaunting his tragic gifts at mimicry, jumped off the ledge in the doorway and stuck a hand on his hip, his left foot pointed sideways.

"The new and improved Draco Malfoy, babes." He spoke in a poor, undistinguishable, almost Brooklyn accent, his free hand gesturing wildly. "Watch me and - weep!" He emphasised the last word by slapping a hand down onto his behind, causing Pansy to cringe then dissolve into fits of giggles.

"I'm flattered you'd think I'd make such a charming queer, Nott. But really, I don't need to be improved."

Hermione turned, startled. There, standing in the Common Room doorway with his lips turned up in a mocking smile, was Draco Malfoy decked like a true Slytherin Ice Prince in night robes of the most dazzling shades of white and grey Hermione had ever seen. He looked rather...glacial, almost.

Standing slightly behind him was Zephyr Mirage, a gorgeous Greek boy who transferred from the Massachusetts Bay School of Wizardry in his third year. He was equally as delectable as his Slytherin peers, though in a more quiet, distinguished way.

Zephyr, however, was not the Slytherin Hermione had her eyes on.

Her heart skipped a beat, causing her to mentally chastise herself for reacting so...so _girlishly_ to seeing Malfoy for the fifth week in a row.

 _Honestly, pull yourself together._

Pansy groaned, rolling her enchanting dark eyes. "Oh good _morning_ , Princess. I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever join us."

Draco glared halfheartedly at her, then cracked a small grin. Hermione tried to shush the voice in her head that told her he looked positively scrumptious with a smile on his face.

"It takes time to look this good, Parkinson." He drawled, stepping off the ledge with ease and making the short way over to the group. He stood beside Hermione, who he positively towered over in height, and threw an arm across her shoulders.

"Granger empathises, doesn't she?" He looked down at her with an amused half-smile, oblivious to the fact that the girl was desperately trying to ignore the tingles running through her shoulder blades at his touch.

 _Get a God damn grip, Hermione._

Blaise snorted, quirking a suspiciously perfect eyebrow. "Don't quote me on this, but I'd bet all sixteen of my vaults in Gringotts that Granger doesn't spend _half_ as much time in front of the mirror as you do, dear."

Draco shot a glare at his best friend. He ruffled Hermione's hair, which didn't gain him much more than a swift elbow in his sides as the aforementioned girl attempted to pat down her curly mane.

He smiled apologetically at her as she stuck her tongue out teasingly.

Pansy faked a gag.

"Come, Granger, let us leave these squibs who are so clearly intimidated by our gorgeous good looks." He smirked at the group's scoffs and protests and began walking, his arm still secure around her shoulder.

Hermione could hear and feel the difference in the atmosphere as the group, led by herself and Draco, began their trek to the Quidditch Pitch where they'd meet Harry and Malekai. They hadn't gotten caught in three years, but they all knew there was just a matter of time before a teacher decided they deserved a midnight snack and left their quarters to patrol the halls.

As they turned the corner out of the dungeons, the group let out a simultaneous breath of relief. Draco turned to Hermione, a boyish grin on his handsome face.

"Ready to get your little ass forced on a broom, Granger?"

Hermione laughed quietly, raising a sceptical eyebrow. "I'd like to see you try, Ferret."

Draco smirked, "Game on."

 _And oh, it was_.


End file.
